


Peter Parker/Spiderman - Over Eating/Lactose Intolerance

by 2dsickfics



Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe Fics [11]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Nausea, Scat, Sick Peter Parker, Vomiting, diarrhoea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:10:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsickfics/pseuds/2dsickfics
Summary: Peter Parker/Spiderman - Over Eating/Lactose Intolerance fic from my tumblr.





	Peter Parker/Spiderman - Over Eating/Lactose Intolerance

Even considering that it was Christmas lunch, Peter eats a _lot_. He has at least three servings of the main meal, complete with various roasted meats and vegetables. His two desserts consist of ice cream and pudding, the former being part of a testing process for some Peter-strength dairy pills Bruce is working on. The rest of the event is just socializing and drinks (all non-alchoholic with children of the Parker and Barton type present, and Tony trying to remove a bad habit).

An hour after the extravagantly catered meal Peter feels a little bloated, but passes it off as eating more than he probably should have for a ‘responsible’ teenager. Everyone leaves before it comes to dinner time, and the feeling is still there, now accompanied by occasional rumbling, but that’s probably just renewed hunger.

For said dinner the spider eats a couple more servings of leftover roast with Tony before having another bowl of ice cream. Tony mentions that he should go easy so as to not out-test the pills, but Peter says he’s fine. And he is.

Until 10pm, at least.

They were just finishing up the movie night and thinking of heading down to the lab when the younger of the two males spoke up over the gurgling of his gut.

“Um, actually, I might go lie down? I’m kinda tired after the guests and stuff so…” He had rehearsed the excuse in his head a few times but it came out clunky and false anyway.

“Okay, no. No lies about your health- Aunt Hottie’s rules for staying here, not mine, though I agree. I obviously know you well enough to believe she has reason to say that, so shoot.” Tony orders.

“I might have, uh, definitely overdone the eating thing a bit,” he trailed off, contemplating his next words, “and- also, uh, the pills may not be working as well as they could be, I think. I-I know it’s hard to figure out with there not being a cure for it but the-”

“Stop. Slow down, Kid. I just need how you’re feeling, no explanation needed,” The oldest of them paused, “Except for why you didn’t and weren’t going to say anything, of course.” he added.

“Um, I just feel a bit sick, like I-know-I’m-going-to-throw-up, sick, but I don’t know when. And my stomach won’t shut up, either.” They both know what the last part is foreshadowing, having been in a this situation before.

“Okay, well, I’ll get you some pepto while you head up to your room. Just let me know if you feel worse. F.R.I.D.A.Y., monitor his condition; make sure he doesn’t dehydrate and open the windows so he can have fresh air.” Tony lists more but Peter feels a wave of dizziness wash over him as the nausea peaks and he holds the back of the couch for a moment before wobbling his way towards the bathroom that sticks off of the lounge. He steals the trash can from next to the chair on his way through, knowing he’ll need it if his gut changes it’s mind.

“I’ll meet,” Pete cuts off to breathe and gulp down his nausea, “meet you in my room. G-go-” it’s his way of saying he’ll probably be a while and he doesn’t want company. The first wave is always the worst, usually being the only time his - _ahem_ \- ‘other end’ is involved. Hopefully this will be one of those times since he took the pills.

At first he considers just sitting on the floor, but logically realises he’ll need to sit on the ‘throne’ for the not-shutting-up to leave his abdomen. He hangs his head over the bin and rests it on his arms as his insides bubble and he knows he’s made the right choice as mush dribbles out of him, interspersed with gas. The smell offends his nose before it reaches his gag reflex, causing him to jerk over the plastic bin. His abdominal muscles clench as he heaves and his back arches as a rustling splash resounds, sick splashing the paper and wrappers.

The next retch is more productive and forces a sloppy fart into the bowl. He can feel that he’s nearly done with that, making him lucky that the pills had _some_ effect. Now he just needs to ride out the nausea and vomiting for a few hours.

Great.

When he makes his way out of the communal bathroom he’s less bloated but he feels like he has to carry the bin out with him until he gets to the storage cupboard to grab the sick bucket. He places the bin in the bath before going to the elevator. The lift makes his stomach flip and he gags into the plastic container. Nothing comes up but he knows better than to look away from safety.

Mr Stark has water for him when he arrives at his door and Peter downs a few mouthfuls. He knows it’s coming up soon so he doesn’t bother being slow and careful. He sits on his bed and bends forward, assuming the same position as when he was on the toilet, and groans.

Sure enough, the water bounces back into the bucket with little more than a muted belch.

“Okay buddy, get it up, drink some more and then get some sleep.” Tony comforts as best he can while rubbing the boy’s back. Peter does just that, well mostly. He doesn’t want any more water. He bickers with his mentor for a bit before agreeing to a small couple of sips and lays down in the fetal position to try and sleep. hopefully he’ll feel better when he wakes up.


End file.
